


Alone and With an Aching Heart

by elder-flower (elder_flower)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Sad Jaskier | Dandelion, friendly innkeepers with Devon accents, moping around by the sea, seriously how do tag, unrequited love????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24620242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elder_flower/pseuds/elder-flower
Summary: My answer to the question that's on all our minds: what did Jaskier do after Geralt told him to fuck off forever?(Spoiler alert: he was SadTM)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Kudos: 58





	Alone and With an Aching Heart

**Author's Note:**

> The first little Witcher thing I wrote! There may be an equally small Geralt follow-up, we'll see.
> 
> The problem with posting things here is having to give them titles. I truly suck at titles, so I just picked a line from the fic, and I am embarrassed about it.
> 
> You can hit me up on Tumblr [(elder-flower)](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/elder-flower) for Witcher-themed chatting, as long as you, like me, are a fully completed adult human.
> 
> :)

Jaskier goes to the coast anyway, alone and with an aching heart that he hopes can be soothed by being somewhere beautiful.

It's not like he thought it would be.

For one thing, he's been imagining blue skies, white clouds and warm air, but as he approaches the tiny coastal town, chosen only for being the closest one when he came down the mountain with no plan, with nothing, and cried over his map, the sky is grey, the clouds are darker grey and the wind is picking up rapidly.

"Oh aye," a friendly innkeeper tells him as he arranges to stay at his establishment. "Always storms this time of year. Will be for another week or two, shouldn't wonder. But if you're plannin' on stayin' a little while, you'll get a proper summer!"

"I... don't know how long I'll be staying," Jaskier says, and tries for a smile.

Then there's the fact that he's alone here. He really thought he'd be able to persuade Geralt, one day, to come somewhere like this with him, to take some time off, even if it was only a few days, and maybe even actually relax.

And even if not, he honestly, truly believed that they were friends. He never for a second imagined that Geralt would ever feel the way he feels, but he really thought that he cared about him, even if he would never say so - that he wanted him in his life.

He drops his things on the floor in his rented room and stares out of the window, where he can see the town's other buildings sloping down toward the sea and just a strip of dark, choppy water on the horizon, and all he can think is that by the gods, he's been so stupid.

* * *

He spends his days there wandering, feeling rather lost. He sits on the pebble beach, or climbs the windblown cliffs, gazing out at the rough sea and the few fishing boats that still go out each morning, despite the guarantee of bad weather. 

He gets rained on a lot and doesn't care, only seeking shelter when he's truly soaked to the skin or when the sound of the thunder suggests that the storm is close enough to present a real, immediate danger.

He hardly ever carries his lute with him, and even then, rarely plays. He writes and composes a bit, mostly in his head. He cries a lot less than he thought he would. He doesn't sing at all.

* * *

He starts running out of money to pay for his food and board sooner than he would have liked, and asks the innkeeper and his wife if he can start playing to their customers of an evening - just playing, providing some background music and a nice atmosphere - even though it's the last thing he feels like doing. When the man starts to say that he'd really rather he does some songs too, "you know, the whole bard routine," his wife, who Jaskier has found to be an equally warm and friendly person, gently scolds him and says he mustn't pressure him.

As Jaskier walks away, an agreement having been made, he hears her mutter quietly to her husband, "the poor lad's clearly heartbroken." He doesn't care that he's being so obvious - he's never been good at hiding his feelings - but at least he gets a small amused smile out of the fact that they think of him as a "lad."

* * *

If he could find it in himself to sing and smile and do "the whole bard routine," he reflects a few days later, it would net him a lot more coin. Still, he's making enough to pay for his room, just, and the innkeeper and his wife, who seem to like him (or maybe pity him, or both) provide him with many of his meals for what he's sure is far less than the actual value of the food, as well as regular reassuring smiles and pats on the shoulder.

It'll do him, for a while.

* * *

It's already been two weeks since he arrived here, Jaskier realises in the middle of the night. He doesn't know what he's doing here, or why. He has no plans to stay, but also no plans to move on, just a vague sense of waiting.

Waiting for what? he wonders, staring up at the wooden beams of the ceiling. Waiting for the better weather he's been promised? Waiting to feel better? Neither seems close.

But eventually summer, as he imagined it, arrives, a warm, bright morning of blue skies and white clouds. Somehow it makes him feel worse.

He makes himself go to the beach, walks barefoot in the tide for a while, picking up shells and trying, really trying, to enjoy himself.

He leaves town and heads inland first thing the next day.


End file.
